


In business

by Vixen86



Category: The Seven Realms Series - Cinda Williams Chima
Genre: (not) trusting strangers, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Canon Compliant, F/M, Origin Story, Second-story work, Street smarts, following your gut, ragmarket, streetname
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen86/pseuds/Vixen86
Summary: “Name’s Hanson Alister,” he announced. “They call me Han.” He wasn’t sure who ‘they’ were, but the she needn’t know that, now, did she?“Blood of Hanalea, youarestupid,” she responded, shaking her head in disbelief. “Dishing out your name to strangers, like honey cakes on summer solstice.” The way she said it almost made Han wonder how he had survived this long.Han Alister, not very good at the life yet, is on the hunt for food. He meets an unexpected ally of sorts.Or, my take on how Han came by his streetname.The story takes place well before the beginning of Demon King, even before Han's Ragger days.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 1





	In business

The room was even darker than the streets had been, so upon entering, it took Han some time to adjust his vision. _When deprived of one sense, sharpen the other ones_ , his Da had taught him, and Han had taken this lesson to heart. After having searched the floor with his foot for obstacles, he took a careful step forward, arms outstretched to avoid slamming face first into a wall, or some other barrier. A smell had found its way into his nose. It was rich and savory, but at the same time sweet and yeasty. A meatpie? His mouth practically watered at the thought. There were some small sounds, too, audible only to the very trained ear. Han didn’t think much of it, though. Probably a mouse or a rat on the hunt for food, same as him. By now, his surroundings had sharpened into view. The walls of the room were lined with shelves, there were some crates and barrels stacked in a corner, an icebox even. And – _yes_ – a meatpie sitting on the countertop on the far side of the room. Dizzy with the anticipation of having his way with it later on, Han forgot to tread carefully this time. His foot caught on something, and he crashed to the floor, having the wind knocked from his lungs upon impact, his chin absorbing the worst of the shock. Before he could gather his wits, something big and heavy had landed on his back. His first, wild, panicked thought was that a fellscat had pounced on him, though it was next to impossible that one would have come down to Ragmarket from the Spirit Mountains. He felt something slide over his mouth: a hand, pulling back his head, the palm hot and clammy, thumb and forefinger obstructing his breathing. Bones. _Not_ a fellscat, then. Not that he needed any other confirmation of that fact, but he also felt the unmistakable sting of a knife at his throat.

“Shh!” a voice hissed in his ear, low and dangerous. “Are you stupid, or what? You were loud enough for the Breaker to hear. Do you _want_ to get caught?” Han hadn’t known before then, it was actually possible to whisper accusingly. As if he’d tripped on purpose! He had a choice thing or two to say to his assailant, but was in no position to do so. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand. Han listened closely for signs that they had been overheard. So far, no sounds of doors opening, no footsteps, no raised voices. The coast seemed to be clear for now; he could finally catch his breath. If it wasn’t for that cursed hand, that is. Setting his pride aside, he tapped the floor three times with his fingertips, the common signal for surrender in a streetfight. At least, he _hoped_ it was common. He felt the weight on top of him shift, as Not A Fellscat leaned in closer once more, whispering in his ear: “I’m gonna take away my hand now,” Thank the Merciful Lady. “Make _one_ sound, and you’re done for. Got that?” Han made a nondescript motion with his head, meaning to nod and avoid further acquaintance with the blade at the same time. Apparently, this had been good enough, for the hand slid away from his face. Han inhaled as noisily as he could, trying to convey an accusation of his own. He delicately cleared his throat, a reminder that there was something else that needed to be done, too.

She was used to making quick decisions at any given moment, even when she knew the wrong one would have disastrous consequences. There was never enough time to think about every possible outcome, so she had come to rely on her instincts when push came to shove. Upon hearing the three taps, her instincts had told her to release the boy. So she had. Both of them were back on their feet in a heartbeat, and for a moment, they just stood here, cutting eyes at each other, not certain what to do next. Even in the dark she could tell he was fair-haired, with huge eyes gleaming in a narrow face. She had also noticed the darbies around his wrists, but didn’t know what to make of those. She reckoned he wasn't much of a threat, but even so, braced herself for an attack. Oddly enough, he had no interest in that, and was already making his way towards the countertop, turning his back to her. A trick of sorts? Keeping her eyes trained on him, she decided it would be best to let him take what he wanted and make do with what he’d leave behind. Suddenly, he froze in place, confirming what she had tried to deny: someone had entered the adjacent room. Their footsteps were not the angry, pounding bluejacket kind, but the slow, dragging swagger of someone meaning to take their sweet time. Bloody, bloody, _bloody_ bones. Having no other way to tell what was going on, she fell back on her hearing. The sounds didn’t make much sense to her: the scraping of wood on wood, a dull clank, some sloshing noise. But no immediate danger, she concluded, and possibly time to plot a silent retreat. The boy must have had other ideas, however. For reasons known only to the Breaker, he chose just that moment to round on her. She seriously started to doubt his decision making abilities. He had her arms pinned to her sides, not really hurting her, only making sure she couldn’t shiv him there and then. He stood very close to her, their noses all but touching. “Listen,” he said, softly, but urgently. “You any fast?” She was in no mood for a lengthy conversation about her swiftness, but still found herself nodding. “Good. Then here’s what we’re gonna do.”

He didn’t even try to hide the fact she’d be the one far worse off, as he explained what he had in mind. Simply put, the general idea was for her to _be_ overheard and to _be_ seen. She’d make enough noise to draw the attention of whoever was in the other room, but not so much as to raise the suspicion of being bamboozled. Once spotted by What’s-His-Face, she’d grab the meatpie and make a run for it, having them come after her, and, of course, shaking them off as soon as she could. In the meantime, the boy would stay out of sight and clear out the room after she’d gone. They would meet again in a back alley near Temple Square to divide the shares. He vowed he would come to her aid if need be, but only if absolutely necessary.

Not believing this could actually work, and cursing herself even as she did it, she had agreed to it. Her part in the endeavor had panned out just as he’d said.

Maybe folks with no bigger problems than clients not paying up acted only on what they saw in front of them, never expecting the real danger to come from behind. Or maybe, just maybe, the boy wasn’t _that_ stupid.

The swag sitting comfortably in her carry bag, she took the scenic route towards the rendezvous point, expecting the boy not to be there, knowing he would.

As soon as the girlie had rounded the corner, Han bolted down the street, absolutely positive she would keep up. He led her to his favorite place in town, the rooftop of a warehouse on Pilfer Alley. _Always seek the high ground_. Another lesson of his Da’s. As far as rooftops went, this one was top shelf: high enough to provide an unobstructed view of Ragmarket, but not so high he might just as well be waving a flag at them who meant him harm. The building next to it was somewhat higher, so there was also a convenient wall for extra cover. Or to lean your back against, which was exactly what Han intended to do when the girlie’s head poked over the ledge of the rooftop, just seconds after Han himself. He was about to offer her his help, but she had managed just fine on her own already. A smile ghosted over his lips. He’d known that one was tough as nails the minute he saw her, back in the storage room. Dark skin, dark curls, dark eyes, sharper than he edge of a blade. Strong and clever enough to have rendered him immobile earlier, despite her slender build.

After having settled next to him, the girlie held out her hand. “Time to pay up,” she said. And he did, giving her the bigger half of everything.

“Who are you, anyway?” the girlie asked some time later, not bothering to chew her food first. Han sat up as straight as he could, tipping his chin up for added effect. “Name’s Hanson Alister,” he announced. “They call me Han.” He wasn’t sure who ‘they’ were, but the she needn’t know that, now, did she?

“Blood of Hanalea, you _are_ stupid,” she responded, shaking her head in disbelief. “Dishing out your name to strangers, like honey cakes on summer solstice.” The way she said it almost made Han wonder how he had survived this long.

Apparently, having something in her belly had made her chatty, and _nosy_ , too, for it wasn’t long before she asked her next question. “What you wearing them darbies for?”, her eyes gliding over the silver bands around his wrists.

“They an’t darbies,” he said, tugging at his sleeves to cover them up. “And I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Had them as long as I can remember. They won’t come off, neither. Not for lack of trying, though.”

There was still food to be had, so the conversation was over for now. Han was eating his way through a chunk of cheese, eyes on the city at his feet. On other nights, it would’ve only been possible to make out the Way of the Queens, the only street lined with wizard lights. Tonight, though, it was full moon, and the whole of Ragmarket looked as if it was shrouded by a gossamer silver cloth. It was that time of night, when it seemed he was the only one outside. To some, it might have felt ominous, but to him, it felt peaceful.

Han only remembered someone was sitting next to him, when that someone said “Cuffs,” for no apparent reason. He frowned, not catching her meaning. The girlie closed two fingers around her wrist, and raised an eyebrow, probably thinking she was being very helpful.

“I’m gonna call you ‘Cuffs’ from now on,” she explained. “Take my word for it, you’ll rule these streets one day.” Clearly, breaking bread together had not only loosened her tongue, but had also given her the bravado of a Queen’s Champion. “And when you do,” she continued, “You _got_ to have a streetname. Something they will fear, something they will remember. But _not,_ ” she looked at him pointedly, her demeanor all worldly, “something that is a road sign for them who want to hush you”. She snorted, adding “Unless you want to go by ‘Darbie’ instead,” as an afterthought.

Han thought this over, trying out the word soundlessly. He had to admit, it had a nice ring to it. He pushed back his sleeves and studied his cuffs. As they caught the moonlight, it was almost as if they gave off a pale glow. No matter what he thought of them, no matter how he’d come by them, they were a part of him he couldn’t change, same as the color of his eyes or the shape of his nose. _Cuffs Alister._ He could get used to that.

“All right,” he said, donning his new identity like a fine cloak. “Then _I’m_ going to call _you_ Cat.” He figured the name would suit her. Girlie was fast, a rum climber, and ferocious to boot. And he _had_ taken her for a fellscat at first.

Inexplicable astonishment washed over her face. “How do you know that?”

“What, now?”

For a moment, they wore twin looks of confusion on their faces, until the girlie let out a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Han failed to see what was so funny.

“Cat’s my actual given name,” she said, letting him in on the joke. “Cat Tyburn”. So much for not dishing out your name to strangers. And then, she actually spat into her palm and stuck her hand out to him, as per old trader custom. Grinning, Han did the same. They clasped hands, signing a wordless contract, which stated that as of now, they were in business together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm very curious to know where you would place this story on the timeline. In other words, how old are Han and Cat at his point? I have some ideas about that, but I'm wondering what others would make of it. Any other thoughts/suggestions/amendments/etc. are also greatly appreciated.
> 
> Please note, that though the story doesn't contain spoilers for the Seven Realms series, some of the comments might. So reading those is at your own risk if you haven't finished the series yet :).


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